


Out in the Cold

by Cat_Francis



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-09
Updated: 2014-04-09
Packaged: 2018-01-18 18:49:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1438999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cat_Francis/pseuds/Cat_Francis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Martin accidentally locks himself out of his house over Christmas holidays, during the worst storm of the season. Douglas swoops in to rescue him from dying of hypothermia. (requested by tumblr user: skywriter98)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Martin could never decide whether he liked the Christmas holidays or not; all of the students he normally lived with had gone home and he pretty much had the house to himself. That part was nice. He didn't have to worry about them coming home late and/or drunk and/or loud. He didn't have to make up excuses for why he didn't want to eat with them (he always felt bad about eating their food knowing that they were barely more financially secure than he was). He could sleep on the couch in front of the small fireplace where it was warm instead of in the attic where the icy wind blew through the roof and the walls that were never meant to enclose an actual living place.

On the other hand, it was terribly quiet. Living with four other people created a certain atmosphere of busyness, of something always going on and someone always around. Through the Christmas holidays, though, things were too calm. And he had to take care of the house himself. Which is why he was lugging the garbage bags out to the side of the road in the grey, wintery, evening rain. Really more of a grey, wintery, evening storm than just rain. The clouds above were almost black and Martin could hardly make out the curb at the end of the driveway through the curtains of water being blown into his face. Above all the noise of the weather, Martin heard what might possibly be the worst sound to ever hear: the back door being blown shut by the wind. Martin sighed, deposited the bags into the bin on the curb and fought his way back to the back door.

He turned the handle and pushed; the door was old and often needed a bit of encouragement to open, but nothing happened. The handle turned, but the door didn't budge. It was old and sticky, but it definitely still worked. Something was wrong. Martin angrily brushed the water from his eyes, swiped at the hair sticking to his forehead and gave another shove. Still nothing.

_Of course this happens to me_ now, thought Martin as he slumped to the concrete step in front of the door, trying his best to hide under the overhang from the roof three stories above his head. It wasn't terribly effective. _Of course, when there's no one in the house, I don't have my key because I was just bringing out the bloody rubbish and I don't even have a cell phone._

For how long he sat there, trying to decide what to do, he couldn't tell. He thought about walking somewhere, but where? The university was closed over the holidays and even if he did find a payphone, he didn't have any change to use one. The whole street was mainly student hous-  _There has to be_ some _regular house on this street, or one nearby._

He stood up, brushed the hair and water out of his eyes and began walking. The air itself wasn't even all that cold, but the water was nearly freezing and the wind that was blowing it into his eyes was also searching out any gap it could find in his clothing. He was getting colder and colder and so far, no one had answered his almost-frantic doorbell ringing. There were no cars in the driveways or lights on in any of the houses. Why weren't there? So cold. And suddenly, so tired.  _Oh right, Christmas eve_. He walked farther. He turned a corner – he couldn't tell which one – and kept plodding away.

Nothing. Just the driving rain, the icy wind, the lethargy creeping up on him. After a while, or maybe it was fifteen minutes, he couldn't be sure anymore, he stopped actually going up to the houses. He just kept walking. On and on. Maybe he was going in circles. It was so hard to tell with the rain and everything being grey and cold. He jammed his hands further into his pockets. His socks and shoes were soaked through. His teeth were chattering so hard he probably wouldn't have been able to ask for help, even if there had been someone to ask.

He was just on the brink of deciding to sit down somewhere with as much shelter as possible and rest for a minute because even walking had become too much work, when the lights appeared. Through the rain, he couldn't tell how close they were or, if it was a car, whether or not it was going to hit him. He almost didn't care anymore. The lights stopped moving, and floated in the darkness before him. They burned his eyes and he looked away.

"Good Lord, Martin, what are you doing out here?"

Martin thought the voice sounded familiar, but he couldn't quite place it at the moment. It sounded concerned though. His teeth continued to chatter but the brightness of the lights was fading, or he was adjusting to it and could look at them more directly now. The shape of a car became clear, with a large figure standing by the driver's side door. Instead of saying anything, Martin began to move toward the figure, hoping that maybe they would let him sit in the car for a bit and warm up. He couldn't tell if he was actually moving or not; his feet had gone numb a while ago. He was shaking.

"Martin?


	2. Chapter 2

Douglas squinted through the pouring rain at the hunched illuminated by his car lights. It was Martin. But what would he be doing wandering down his own street in the middle of one of the worst storms in recent history? Douglas didn't know but he wasn't about to just leave his captain in the wet and the cold. He hurried to his side and, as he got closer, more questions arose. Why wasn't he dressed for the weather if he was going to be out in it? In fact, why was he outside at all?

"Martin?" he called. There was no answer. Douglas moved in for a closer look, his heart starting to beat just a little faster. Something was wrong. He didn't know what yet, but he was determined to find it out.

As he got closer, he saw that Martin wasn't standing quite so still; he was shivering violently. And his teeth were chattering so hard, they could be heard above the wind. His red hair was plastered to his forehead and hung down over his eyes. He had obviously been out here a while.

"Martin, look at me," Douglas said, putting a hand on the other man's back and looking hard into his eyes.

Martin's face turned up at the sound of his voice and Douglas saw that his eyes weren't really seeing what was in front of him; they were lost and confused. Definitely not a good sign. It was pretty obvious that Douglas needed to get his friend warm and dry as fast as possible. He might have used his medical student status as an excuse to get into the best parties on campus, but he hadn't been asleep in every lecture and he was pretty sure that Martin had some form of hypothermia.

If Douglas had been the kind of person to panic, he would have been panicking at this point. As it was, his heart rate was slightly faster than normal, but he forced himself to remain calm and think back to anything and everything that could help him…and Martin.

With a guiding hand on his back, Douglas led Martin back toward the car. They were only down the street from Martin's home, but Douglas wasn't sure if Martin would make it if he had to walk.

Douglas had never been more grateful that Martin lived in rundown student housing. The front door was locked – Martin had been on his way to get ready for bed before taking out the bins – but it was a simple lock, and old. It took him seconds to pick it.

The first thing Douglas did was build up the fire, small though the fireplace was. He knew he needed to get Martin warm but it couldn't be rushed without the risk of something even more serious, like a heart attack or stroke. Once the fire was crackling nicely, Douglas went around the house, searching every closet he could find, looking for blankets, extra sheets, anything that could be wrapped around a person to keep them warm. He grabbed towels and a pair of clean pajamas from Martin's room, trying not to notice how cold it was in the attic where his captain lived.

He brought everything back to the living room where he had left the sopping wet, confused patient. Good signs were there to greet him: Martin's teeth had almost entirely stopped chattering and he wasn't shaking so violently. Good.

"Hullo, Martin," Douglas said, trying to gauge where Martin's head was.

"D-Douglas? W-What are y-you d-d-doing here?" Martin was finally able to stutter out.

"The bigger and more important question, O captain my captain, is what were you doing outside in the pouring rain? While you're answering, take off your clothes."

"I g-g-got l-locked out. And w-w-w-what?" Martin asked, going bright red. "Douglas, I-"

Douglas sighed dramatically. "I believe you have mild to moderate hypothermia. You need to get out of your wet things so you can dry off and warm up. Unless you'd rather die," he finished with less sarcasm than usual. It was hard to make fun of someone when you had found them out wandering in a winter rain storm, soaked to the bone and now they were sitting on the floor in front of you, still a wet, shivering mass and looking smaller and more vulnerable than usual. Like a kitten who had been accidentally dropped into a bathtub of water.

"O-oh, right. S-s-sorry. I'll just take my stuff into the bathroom, then."

"Do you think you can make it on your own? I mean, you could just change here. I've been in locker rooms hundreds of times, so it's nothing to me."

Martin blushed again, going even redder, if that were possible, "N-no. I'll g-g-go to the b-b-bathroom." He stood up shakily, feeling his feet for the first time in what seemed like hours. Might have been hours, too. They burned in the heat of the fire but the burning and tingling mean that he could feel them, however painful it was, and he was grateful. He hobbled to the bathroom, partly because of the pain, but mostly because he was just so tired. Everything felt heavy and awkward and clumsy.

Douglas was on the verge of knocking on the bathroom door to make sure Martin hadn't passed out or something, when the door opened. There was a bit of colour in his face now; he looked less like a vampire in a blizzard and more like a normal human.

"Better?" Douglas asked, and then without waiting for a response, began to instruct his patient. "Sit with your back to the fire, not too close. Put on this sweater and put the hood up too. I'm going to make you some tea."

"Oh, how v-very British of y-you." The heat of the fire was beginning to sting Martin's back, so he moved a little further away, but not much.

"Actually, back when I was a medical student at university instead of a doctor making housecalls, one of the many things I learned about treating people with hypothermia was that they should be given hot drinks. So, tea. While I'm doing this, you can tell me how you ended up wandering down your own street in a nightmare of a storm. You said you locked yourself out. How?"

"First off, I d-didn't lock  _myself_  out. I was t-taking out the garbage before g-going to bed and the wind blew the back door shut. When I went to o-open it again, it wouldn't budge. It thought that maybe there would be another house somewhere close where I could either wait or call a locksmith."

"It's Christmas Eve, Martin," Douglas said pointedly.

"Yes, I know," Martin replied impatiently, "but I panicked."

"Gosh, what a surprise."

"Well, what are you doing here? How did you find me?"

Now it was Douglas's turn to look sheepish. He looked down at the kettle that was refusing to boil so he would have something to do.

"Douglas?" Martin said, sitting up a little bit; sensing the opportunity of revenge for all the teasing.

"Alright, fine. Carolyn knew that I would be spending Christmas alone since my divorce with Helena went through, and she invited me over. And then thought of you, here all alone as well so she asked that I invite you as well. I tried calling, but you didn't answer so I drove over, assuming that you'd rather be with people than in a drafty, old house by yourself. Good enough answer?"

All thoughts of teasing went straight out of Martin's head. "Really, Douglas?"

"Um, yes. I thought that since we were both probably moping around our respective home, why not mope around together. And around Arthur, there wouldn't be space to mope with his cheeriness taking up any and all available room." He brought a steaming mug of tea and set it in front of Martin, and then wrapped more blankets around his shoulders.

Martin swallowed hard, trying not to let Douglas see the tears that were forming in his eyes. "Are they still expecting us, then?"

"Depends. Do you want to go?"

"Yes and no. Yes, I don't want to be by myself tonight because it's too quiet here and the wind is so cold, but no, I don't want to go because I'm just so tired. I can hardly keep my eyes open now."

"Then drink your tea while I call Carolyn to tell her what's happened."

While Douglas was on the phone, Martin sipped away at his tea. It was perfect. Not too hot and very sweet. He could feel the heat spreading through his body every time he swallowed and it was a glorious feeling. His hands and feet had warmed up too and he could feel them again. He grabbed another blanket, not because he was really very cold anymore, but because the weight felt so nice. He curled up on the floor, using yet another blanket as a pillow.

"Let me feel your hands."

Martin didn't want to let go of the tea, but he did, holding them up to where Douglas towered above him. He took them in his own hands, so much bigger and warmer than Martin's.

"Still colder than I'd like. Roll over and face the fireplace."

Martin did as he was told, far beyond too tired to care. He couldn't even muster the energy to open his eyes when he felt Douglas lay down next to him, curling around him. All that he could manage was a small sound that might have been meant as a question.

"Shut up and go to sleep. You need to be kept warm all over. The fire will take care of the front. I've got nowhere else to be and I'm not going to let you die here. Carolyn would just hire someone else that I don't like as much and have far less material work with, teasing-wise."

Martin wasn't even listening; he was already in that foggy space between waking and dreaming. He just snuggled further down in the blankets, glad that Douglas was so big and warm and wrapped around him like a cat around its kitten.


End file.
